To Need or Not to Need
by Dianne
Summary: Tag for The Wedsworth Townsend Act- Roy joked that if John played his cards right, he might let him work with him. John joked that Roy needed him. The new partners learn a lot about each other when injuries surface after the high of a rescue wears off
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: This is a tag for the pilot episode of Emergency, The Wedsworth Townsend Act in which John and Roy meet and become partners. I've written it from different points of view in first person, which are labeled as POV's throughout the story. The story begins from the end of the episode where Dixie and Brackett drive away and the rescue of the trapped miners is complete. If you've seen the episode you will note that a lot of rocks fell on John and Roy during the rescue. That had to hurt, right? Also, I loved this episode for another reason, I'm a sucker for stories where people care genuinely for others and when Roy called John, Junior, I just melted. There will be three chapters and you'll get my take on what happened after they guys regroup at the station. I hope you like it.

XXXX

JOHN'S POV:

Roy points his finger at me and then to the passenger side of the squad as Doctor Brackett and Dixie pull away from the caved-in mine. I get in without argument and look in the side door mirrors as he starts the engine. We leave behind a trail of chaos and death but right now I'm on a high despite a headache from taking a falling rock to the temple when I had to take my helmet off to peak through a hole for victims.

We saved people today.

It's dark as we drive back to my new station. My head is pounding. Roy keeps glancing sideways at me. He does that after we go on a particularly bad rescue. I'm getting used to it. I remember him telling me at training that if I played my cards right he just might let me work with him at fifty-ones. I joked to Doc Early that he needed me. At the time all I could really think was _why would he want me?_ And I dismissed it as the joke I thought it was. Roy was after all the best, one of the driving forces behind signing guys up for the paramedic program. So, I put that out of my mind but sure enough, once I graduated from the training program I got a call about a transfer to fifty-one and here we are.

I'm not exactly a boot. I've been a rescue man for a year now at another station but I'm the youngest and most recent to join fifty ones. This position earns me the dish duty more often than I care to admit because I'm not up on the guy's card games yet. I don't know their poker faces. And, yes I'm terrible at cards.

The new position also puts me in a place I've never been before, under scrutiny. I mean sure, I've been scrutinized for my abilities during training and tests but I'm talking about a different kind of scrutiny. One I'm not sure I know what to do with.

Roy and I climb from the cab of the squad. He rolls his shoulders left and right and his neck makes a little cracking noise. It always does that after he's hunched over for long periods of time. I don't need to worry about that but he's limping a bit too. I'll have to keep an eye on that.

"Gettin' old there, Pally," I tease as we make our way to the locker room. But I spoke way too soon because when I bend to untie my boots pain shoots up my side. I suck in my breath hoping Roy didn't hear me.

"Yeah, and what's your excuse, _Junior?"_

"What me, nothing! I'm fine. I'm good. Just great. Never better." Now if only I could straighten up.

When I finally manage to get myself upright, Roy stands in front of me with his hands on his hips. I hate when he does that. I keep my head down when he tells me I can take the first shower. I can feel some dried blood in my hair near my temple and I don't want him to see it now that my helmet's put away. I'll clean it up after I get a shower. I can feel his eyes follow me. So, I suck in a breath and walk tall instead of the bent over caveman walk I feel capable of right now.

The hot water feels really good. It pools around my feet, having nowhere to go as bits of mud and debris clog the drain. I slosh my foot around over the silver grate and the water begins to swirl again only this time it's tinged pink. Great. I'm bleeding. With the wet mud and sweat it must have stopped when I was in the mine and the warm water started it up again. The shampoo stings as it passes over my face when I rinse. Gritty sand trails down my chest. I suck in my breath and tilt my temple into the spray. My fingers find fine pebbles of gravel embedded in the wound. I squint my left eye, plucking at them; thankful that I wasn't looking up when we were showered with rocks several times.

"Gage, leave some hot water for the rest of us," Chet yells.

I make sure all the soap is out of my hair and step from the shower with the towel wrapped firmly around my head. I know that's how ladies do it but I don't really see a choice here. If Roy sees this … Well, I just started here. I don't wanna blow it.

Chet's an odd one. He treats me like a boot, water balloons in my locker, eggs in my helmet, that sort of thing. Nothing malicious though, just annoying. He follows me from the shower stall to the locker room.

"Shouldn't you be stealing the shower right about now?" I ask him.

Chet's just starting to grow a mustache and I must say it's at that awkward stage, where it mostly looks like a shadow or a chocolate milk mustache. His head tilts slightly and his lip quirks up. I swear he's like a hound that's just caught a scent. He reaches for the towel on my head.

"Cut that out, Chet. Go take your shower before we get another call."

Just then Marco smiles, swirls a towel around into a whip and cracks Chet on the small of his back causing him to howl. Marco then slides slyly into the shower stall.

"Told ya, now you missed your shower. Now get out of here so I can change ya perv."

But Chet just stands there, rubbing at the small of his back. I'm positive there are several things going on behind those blue Irish eyes of his. One, he's going to get Marco back real bad and I'm gonna get a day off from his wrath. Two …

"Damn it, Chet!" I swear loudly as my head wrap comes flying off.

"Knew it," Chet says smugly and before I can clamp my hand over his mouth he calls for Roy and dismantles a flour and water balloon in my locker before it hits me.

"Your partner's bleeding," Chet says. "I'll get your equipment."

"Listen, I'm fine. A little bandage and I'll be right as rain," I protest as the cut on my temple drips blood down over my lips.

Chet's like the damn town crier. Or the boy who cried wolf. Or something equally as annoying. He's supposed to be getting the trauma box, not the Cap, the engineer and doctor, the baker and the candlestick maker. But that's who shows up to the locker room in tow.

"Don't need an audience, _Chester,"_ I spit out.

I don't think I'll ever figure Chet out. He'll jump all over me any time at all but when it comes to work, he's all business.

"You're bleeding, Gage," he points out again unhelpfully as if that explains everything. It explains nothing.

"Scratches do that," I say lamely as Roy turns my head upwards slightly. Either he's shrinking or I'm growing because when we were in training only a couple of months ago, I couldn't look him right in the eyes.

"It's more than a scratch, kid," Roy chastises. He sounds a bit mad. _Thanks a lot Chet!_

Mike takes my elbow and starts leading me toward the kitchen.

"Wait a second, let me at least get dressed first," I protest.

"Nope. You'll just bleed all over your uniform anyway," Roy says, nodding to Mike to continue.

"Just a sec," Chet says, dashing off toward the dorm and returning with a blue robe in his hands. He wraps it around my shoulders and I tie it at the waist letting the towel fall from my waist.

"There are some things I'd rather not see when he sits down," Chet explains.

_Thanks a lot Chet… _Like I said, I'll never understand him.

The adrenaline from the day is really starting to wear off and I didn't realize until Chet brought me the robe that I was cold. I'm marched through the bay to the kitchen and sat at the table. Marco finishes his shower and joins us in the kitchen to add to the spectators. Chet takes him aside and they whisper back and forth seriously for a minute then shut up and watch the proceedings.

"Uh, Roy. I'm fine."

"M' hm," is all he says as he shines the penlight into my eyes.

"Ow!"

"Mike, would you mind bringing me the biophone?" Roy asks.

"What for?" I ask in alarm.

Roy doesn't answer me. His mouth is set into a grim line. I've done it now. If Chet hadn't blabbed about this little cut, our first major rescue would have gone off without a hitch. I'd have earned my place with Roy. I glare at Chet from the corner of my eye. He doesn't flinch.

"Rampart we have a male code I still alarm, twenty-two years old with a probable concussion, vitals to follow," Roy reports as I stupidly look around to see who the victim is. I do _not_ have a concussion!

ROY POV:

He does so have a concussion. I knew something was up when he didn't talk my ear off the whole way back to the station. He's a risk taker. Remember that old saying, 'be careful what you wish for'? Well, I wished for him as a partner, even told him during training that if he played his cards right, I'd ask for him as a partner. Now I've got him, I don't know what to do with him. Don't get me wrong. He's a great paramedic and one hell of a fireman, but like I said, a risk taker.

"Rampart, pupils are equal but slightly sluggish," I continue out loud, musing on the inside. John doesn't say a word. That's not normal for him. Usually he complains constantly about stuff like this. I take his arm for a BP reading.

It doesn't take a genius to know that we're going to be in a world of hurt tomorrow from those falling rocks when the mine decided to remind us who was the boss but I waited and waited for Gage to say something; to admit that he was hurt. I don't think he would have if Kelly hadn't ratted him out. How can I look after him if he doesn't tell me when he's hurt? I mean, not that he needs looking after, he was a rescue man before he met me and he's not dead yet. He joked at training when I told him he might be able to work with me that I needed him. I guess he was sort of right. I can't explain it but there's something about him.

I was about to ready to give up on trying to recruit guys for the paramedic program when in walks this cocky young guy on his day off, sans uniform with a huge attitude. Well, he made me defend the program I was about to give up on, made me tell him every single reason we should train and be ready. When I finally got him to sign on the dotted line, he stole my green pen and left.

That memory makes me reach down and grab John's a.k.a. my pen from the top of the biophone box to record the BP readings and such. John slaps my hand when I peel the now slightly damp robe away from his knee to get a look at his hip. His eyes narrow and he hand gestures for everyone else to turn around. Cap rolls his eyes but gestures for everyone to turn around.

"I saw you limping too," Gage says quietly. I swear I actually heard Chet's head turn.

"Like you said, I'm getting' old," I tell my younger partner evenly. I poke a little harder into his hipbone than strictly necessary to shut him up. And there it is, the reason he couldn't straighten up. I move the robe keeping his modesty in check. His hip is purple and blue and has to hurt like crazy. I'm amazed he walked out of that mine. But then again, we were all on a high. Orders come from the biophone as I finish my assessment.

"Okay, you heard the man, you're going to Rampart," I tell John. "He said transport as soon as possible." I snap the medical tape off. I made a fine head dressing if I do say so myself, much better than that beauty parlor one Gage put on himself.

Once again, Mike steps forward like a bouncer at a bar or something. I have a feeling it's gonna take some convincing to get Gage to just get up and get this over with.

"He said as soon as possible. It is _not _possible that I'm ever gonna go into Rampart naked under Chet's robe," he grumbles.

XXXX

CHET'S POV:

Well that's gratitude for ya. Give a guy a robe you clothe him for an hour, lend him a fresh uniform that he never returns you clothe him for a year. So, Gage steps from the locker room flanked by Roy and Mike wearing my uniform.

"Expecting a flood?" I ask. I can't be nice to him, wouldn't wanna worry him that something was really wrong but that head wound looks nasty. I don't think he's gonna be back this shift and maybe more.

"I must've grown since you lent me this one," he grumbles back at me. "If HQ would finally just send me my uniform allowance I wouldn't have to beg, borrow and steal."

"Easy babe, just teasing you," I soothe. Wow, he must really have one hell of a headache because he only glares in return as Mike and Roy push him toward the squad. I'd be mad too if HQ was fooling me around like they are with Gage. It would make me feel … temporary.

OH! Now I get it. Our Gage was worried that if he got hurt real bad he'd be replaced here at fifty-one and he loves it here. After all, I've made it so welcoming it's like a second home. And, I think he really looks up to Roy.

I have some phone calls to HQ uniform division … or whatever department it is to make and some plans to get ready for fruition. That kid, well he's not that much younger than me, but he makes a nice pigeon and I don't want to lose him. And on a serious note, after watching him work today in that mine, I know he's the guy we all want to have our backs and someone we can call family. It's a new station but I think we've found our youngest brother.

XXXX

MIKE'S POV:

Cap stood us down. We're all filthy and exhausted and I'm riding with Gage and Desoto in the squad to Rampart. Usually Marco or Chet get this glory but today, Cap gave it me. Damn it.

I'm not intervening. One of the men is hurt and I'm just doing my job.

I think John thinks Roy's mad at him. I don't know if I should point out that Roy always looks … constipated? when one of us is hurt. I usually don't intervene in situations at the station. Chet sometimes digs himself in real deep and needs a shovel to get himself out but it's usually Marco who hands him one. Sometimes Cap gets fed up with them or with paperwork in general and I quietly knock on his door and hand him coffee. Other times Mama Lopez calls to find out if Marco's okay. She asks for me, not him and he cringes but I just talk to her and reassure her that we all take care of each other. It's the truth. So, yeah, I guess I do get involved … but only when it's necessary and besides, Mama Lopez always sends me extra enchiladas to take home when she cooks and sends stuff in for the shift.

I don't think I'll ever figure Chet out. I wonder if all the guys feel that way. One minute he treats Gage like a boot and the next he's making sure he's okay. I get a kick when Mama Lopez pinches his Irish cheeks and makes a clucking sort of sound followed by something in Spanish about a cheesy mustache.

John manages to squeeze from my grip and flip himself up into the squad into the middle seat as if he needed to prove he's okay. None of us is Superman so I have no idea why my helping him is such a big deal to this kid.

OH! I get it. It _is_ that constipated look on Roy's face. He's mistaking it for anger.

Gah, I hate getting involved. But … the kid's starting to list, his eyes are getting droopy and I'm supposed to help keeping him talking. Plus, much as I hate to admit it, he's growing on me. I hate getting attached to people in this business. Too many things can go wrong. That's why I'm at fifty-one. I needed a fresh change of scenery after losing nearly my entire company at my last station at a chemical refinery fire. 'Big deal' is sort of my catch phrase. It protects me from caring.

But damn it, I do.

"Johnny, stay awake for us, we're almost there. I'm sure it's just a mild concussion but you don't want old Roy here getting into trouble, do you?"

Which was the wrong thing to say.

"No! It was my fault. Why would Roy get into trouble? Stop the car … squad, whatever. Stop!"

Roy pulls over and Gage is like a wild animal wanting to get out.

"Look, let's just go back to the station. We'll bandage this up and just say it was all a mistake. I'm sorry I screwed up and got hurt. I couldn't fit my dumb head through the hole to check for victims so I had to take my helmet off. I'm sorry, Roy. I let you down on our first real rescue."

XXXX

ROY'S POV:

He thinks this is his fault? I'm the senior member here. If it's anyone's fault it's mine.

Mike sighs loudly. I think he hates intervening or getting involved but the sigh sounded like a grumbling volcano. It's ready to go off.

"Okay, I think I see what's going on here," Mike says. "John you had to take your helmet off to check for victims. You didn't break any rules or let anyone down but for God's sake next time you're hurt, tell someone. Roy, you're not clairvoyant. You can't know someone's hurt if they don't tell you. This was an accident. Look, guys, I've tried real hard not to get to know you that well … for a lot of reasons but the truth is, I have. Damn it … I have. I thought when I got to fifty-ones I'd have learned my lesson. Don't get too close. Things end. But looking at you two reminds me that we have to appreciate what we have while we have it. You guys are gonna be the best paramedic team L.A. County will ever see, but for now, let's get Johnny to the hospital. And Roy, wipe that constipated look off your face, I saw you limping too and Chet's already called ahead to have you checked out."

Johnny and I just stare at Stoker as he crosses his arms in a no nonsense manner. I don't think I've ever heard him string together more than ten words at time. It's only now that I remember where he came from. Thirty-six. They lost four guys last year. I think back to the funeral and that's where I knew him from. He drove the casket-laden engine during the processional…

"Besides, Cap says he'll give you two latrine duty for a year if I report any deviation from doctor's orders at Rampart," he says, wiggling his eyebrows like he's enjoying this way too much. Boy, he doesn't intervene often but when he does, watch out. He's a bit of a mother hen, in a quiet way.

I back into the E.R. Bay and limp around to the passenger side to help Stoker with Johnny. I might as well not try to hide the limp any longer. _Thanks a lot Chet!_

Dixie meets us with a wheelchair and Mike glares Johnny into it. His glare beats my constipated look hands down. I think that glare will come in handy when it comes to this kid we now call brother.

We're making our way down the hall when John's feet suddenly slam down like brakes stopping us in our tracks and nearly impaling poor Ms. McCall with the handles.

"Nuh, uh, I am _not _being examined by Brackett. That guy hates me. I sort of … um, insulted him at my birthday party. He hates me…"

"He's a pussycat," Dixie soothes while silently shaking her head in Mike's direction.

"Pussycat my ass," Gage cusses. I've never heard him cuss before.

"Apologize in front of the lady, Junior," I scold.

"No, don't. I'm lying. He's not a pussycat. But he's not an ogre either. Give him a chance. Besides, I'll be there with you and I've got a soft spot for you." Dix sure is tough but she can see my partner's worried and in pain.

XXXX

JOHN'S POV:

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This has got to be one of the worst cases of conflict of interest I've ever seen. Brackett does hate me. Called me an amateur. He doesn't even know me. I'd like to see him run into a burning building. But in fairness, I'm never likely to be elbow deep in a guy's guts fixing stuff either.

I can hear it now. _What were you doing with your helmet off. As a paramedic you should know the serious head injury you can get from being so irresponsible. Amateur! _

"M' not an amateur!" _Did I say that out loud?_

"What did you say, Johnny? Just take it easy, pal. Everything's gonna be okay," Roy's voice soothes as we reach treatment three's door.

_So I did say that out loud then._

"We'll just wait out here," Mike tells me. My eyes go wide as Brackett makes his way down the hall. Roy looks over his shoulder and back at me. My respiration picks up and I feel sort of nauseous.

XXXX

ROY POV:

"Cap told me to keep an eye on 'im," I say.

For a guy who doesn't like to get involved, Mike picks up on my tone right away.

"Yeah, true. Think I'll supervise."

Brackett's still a little stiff with us but I don't think he hates us. Just the same, I'm not going to let him make John feel any worse than he already does. Mike's right, he broke no rules taking his helmet off when victims were behind that wall and he needed to get a look. We'll let him patch up John and leave any firefighting technique discussions to our Captain. Mike folds his arms across his chest at the same time as I do. I think we make our point.

XXXX

BRACKETT'S POV:

Hose jockeys. Do they really think I'll grumble at an injured kid … um, man? What kind of ogre do they think I am? Okay, I mean I really wasn't nice to them at the beginning. I'm entitled to my beliefs, right?

I know I'm in trouble when my patient flinches when I pull his eyelid up to have a look at his pupil responses. Roy steps forward a bit and the other guy grumbles low in his throat. Okay, so maybe I deserve this.

"How're you feeling, John?" I ask.

He cocks his eyes back open and squints under the bright overhead light and contemplates a lie. I step over to the light switch and turn the dimmer down. This earns me a nod of approval from Dixie, an uncrossing of the arms from Desoto and a slightly less throaty growl from the other guy.

"Like a cave threw a rock at me," the kid tells me. I bite my tongue from telling him I would have expected a more medically accurate answer than that from a paramedic who graduated in the top of his class.

"You be nice, Kel," Dix scolds in my left ear as I get out a suture kit."

"What happened?" I ask, turning my query toward the older paramedic.

"A cave threw some rocks at him," Desoto tells me, crossing his arms again and this time, the three of them laugh and Dix joins in.

This does get a smile from my patient and I note a blood pressure change for the better with it. I wanted to be all gruff when I came in here, give lectures about safety, sort of let this hose jockey know I run this program. But you know what? He knows it. All along it's been my problem, and damn it if I don't have a soft spot for him. There's still a smudge of mud behind his left ear that he must have missed in one very painful shower and Dixie's eyebrow raises so high I think her hair ate it when I tenderly clean it away without insult.

I move to help my patient onto his side so I can have a look at his hip. His cheeks stain deep red as he swirls his finger around to indicate for everyone to turn around. I'd roll my eyes but that would mean Dix would hang out the closed sign on her door and I really need a good martini tonight after this. When I turn back around, yes, he asked me to turn around too; the gown we've managed to convince him to put on is wrapped firmly around his privates baring only his left hip.

I palpate the hip joint as gently as I can while still checking for internal injuries to go along with the deep purple and blue bruises that stand out around the deep red and green ones directly on the hip joint. Heat rises from the injury. Hopefully it's only inflammation but I'll get some x-rays to be sure.

Malcolm arrives to take a skull series and hip pictures and I shoo everyone from the room. Something makes me reach out and pat John's shoulder. I draw it back quickly when he flinches slightly. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of being the reassuring and kind doc. Guess not.

Thankfully the x-rays came back negative but Gage is pretty sore from moving around to get the right angles. I prescribe him something for the pain and he takes nine stitches near his hairline above his left temple. If the number of young nurses asking Dix if she needs a break is any indication, I'd say this new small scar isn't going to damage this young man's chances at dates at all. But Dix is protective of this one and his partner and for good reason. They saved her life. I wasn't there for her. You know, I've never actually thanked them for saving her. I can't. Not really. After all, they weren't supposed to.

Something about that realization sends a chill down my spine. And now the reason why I feel like I should give this kid a lollipop and send him home with his mom hits me. He's so young and in most ways, braver than I will ever be. And right then something changes in me. I don't ever want to see these men in here again. I mean as patients. But such is their job I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of this one in particular for some reason. He seems like a risk taker.

I finish bandaging the kid's head and remind myself not to call him kid to his face.

"You have a mild concussion," I tell him, forcing myself to address him and not Roy. My patient is an adult after all. God he looks so young though … "You won't be carrying on with this shift but I think I can let you go home providing someone wakes you hourly. Is there someone we can call to pick you up?"

"Ah, thanks. No. If I can just use the phone? I'll uh, call someone."

Dixie starts helping the young man get dressed and I can't help but smile as he blushes crimson again.

Roy has a quick word with his partner and I usher him and Stoker I think his name is out of the room to treatment two to have a look at Roy's leg. John might as well rest until he's picked up.


	2. Chapter 2

ROY'S POV:

The verdict for me is a badly sprained ankle, which I'm chastised for walking on. Wow, Brackett wasn't this hard on John and he had a sprained head! Stoker snickers at me behind Brackett's back.

"You wouldn't let a patient walk around on an ankle like this," he says, doing that famous lip twitch. I think he thinks he's Elvis. "Look, Roy, you and Gage both have a lot more responsibilities than you did six short months ago. I know your first concern is your victims but please, don't forget about your own health once these rescues are done. You and your partner could have done irreparable damage to yourselves hiding injuries like this. Your partner could have aspirated in his sleep with that concussion if he was alone."

"Roy was watching him the whole time … sir," Stoker defends. "He already notified the cap he might be bringing Gage in."

Brackett actually smiles. "I should have known," he tells me which is as close to an apology as I'm gonna get. I'll take it.

"But, you weren't going to mention that ankle, am I right?"

Stoker mimics Brackett's brow moves behind his back and it makes me laugh. Doc spins around and Stoker's standing there as innocent as the day is long.

"Yeah, Roy. That was bad," he tells me still snickering.

Brackett tapes up my ankle and someone brings in some crutches and adjusts them to my height. Mike calls the cap to tell him he'll have to call in two replacements. He slaps me on the back and complains that he has to drive the _'Hotwheels truck'_ back to the station.

"Feeling inadequate without _Big_ Red, Stoker?" I call to his retreating back. I'm rewarded with a gesture most unbecoming of an engineer.

Brackett takes his leave and tells me I can meet him in the break room for coffee until my ride gets here if I want.

Joanne's coming to pick me up soon. John's not married and he never talks about his home life. I wonder who's coming to get him. He's supposed to be awakened every hour for neuro checks.

Just as I'm gathering my crutches together, Mike comes back.

"I was just getting into the _dinky car_ when a cab pulled up. He said he was looking for John Gage. He must have thought I worked here or something. I told him the call was a mistake and paid him the base rate and sent him on his way. Then I saw John peaking through the doors. He high-tailed it back into treatment three," Mike tells me.

"I knew it!" I fume, forgetting my crutches and hobbling across the hall. I hear them click-clacking in Mike's hands as he follows me.

I prepare to count to ten so as not to destroy the beautiful stitches Brackett so painstakingly put in my partner's face. I make it to four before I spot him just sitting up on the examination table looking very lost. He hasn't seen me yet; swinging doors don't make much noise. Mike practically ploughs into my back. I shush him and together we peer at our newest shift mate through the crack in the door. He swipes at his eyes, his shoulders slumped. One of the side effects of a concussion can be irritability or being overly emotional.

Dix tries not to startle us as she sneaks up behind us.

"Uh, guys, what are you doing?"

"Shh, look," I tell her. So she does.

"I thought so," Dix says quietly and I push her to share with the class.

"Well, on his discharge papers he has no listing for next-of-kin. I was just coming back to make sure he has someone at home, a girlfriend, a roommate…"

The answer lies heavily in the air.

"I'll have to tell Kell. Johnny will have to be admitted." Dix says.

"No. He won't," I say firmly. "Give me a minute please?"

I walk in slowly. Gage startles and nearly jumps off the table.

"Roy, I heard you were going home too," he says once he calms down.

"Yeah, sprain, you know how it is…"

"Yeah. I'll uh, be going in just a few minutes too. Um, has Stoker left yet?" he asks anxiously.

"Yeah, he took a cab that showed up here for someone named John Gage," I say as sarcastically as I can manage when John looks so low. You wouldn't happen to know who that is would you? Because the Gage I know is supposed to be supervised tonight."

"I'm fine, Roy. I know when my birthday is, who the president is and all the other stuff."

"You know now but what happens if the concussion takes a bad turn and you don't know that in a few hours. You and I both know the consequences and the protocol."

"_Consequences and Protocol_. Hm, sounds like a really good book. Like _Pride and Prejudice, _or_ Sense and Sensibility."_

Even now he tries to make jokes. Whenever something upsets or hurts him, that's what he does, tries to disarm you with wit. He's pale when he smiles at me tentatively to see if I was fooled. I'm not.

"I've got a good book for ya," I say, trying really hard to remember that he has a concussion. "It's called if-you-ever-try to-do-anything-like-this-again,-I'll-kill-you."_ Huh, I guess I failed. I don't care. I'm mad._

John looks up at me and for once he has nothing to say. Dixie arrives with his admitting forms and he reaches for the pen. He signs on the dotted line and _then_ decides to read what he's just agreed to. Wow, I should have had Dixie with me when I was trying to sign guys up for the paramedic program.

"I'm sorry, Roy. I guess I wouldn't be setting a very good example for the program if something happened to me and it got out," he shrugs, squinting to read the form, which I know, has to be blurry if the lump forming on his temple under the stitches is anything to go by.

I'm beyond exasperated. He doesn't get it. "Is that what you think this is all about?"

The door opens and my wife steps in. Stoker gazes apologetically from the open doorway. I was going to try to do this without making my partner feel any worse than he already does.

Fail.

Oooh, Joanne has that look in her eyes just like the one she had for Dr. Brackett at John's party.

XXXX

JOANNE POV:

"John Gage, unless you've secured yourself an all night date with a registered off duty nurse, you can march yourself out to my car right now," I tell my husband's partner. "And in the future, I expect you to take better care of yourself. My man needs a partner who can watch his back and that means you need to be a hundred percent."

By now that surly Dr. Brackett from Johnny's birthday's party has arrived. I nod at him. There's something in his eyes like admiration. Didn't expect that. Anyway, Johnny better not argue with me. I know little brothers; I have seven of them and both my parents worked so I ran a tight ship. Still do.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," Roy tells me, relief evident on his face. He worries so much for this new partner of his and if he cares this much, he must be pretty special. I intend to get to know John better; after all, in a weird way he's family. Roy spends almost as much time with his work mates as he does at home. I need to know he's safe.

John looks to Roy wide-eyed.

"What? You _don't_ have a date with a registered nurse, do you?" my husband asks him as if nothing would surprise him.

"N-no. I uh … it's just …"

"Johnny, did you really think you had to go home alone?" Roy asks.

"Uh, um. I just … I don't know many people in L.A.," he whispers and leaves it at that. He's a mystery that's gonna take a long time to figure out but I think there's a long, sad history behind him.

"Look, Johnny, any man I trust with my husband's life is welcome in our home any time. Come on it's late, you look exhausted and I can guarantee you one hour of uninterrupted sleep at Chez Desoto. Now come on, what do you say?"

John ducks his head down.

"Are you sure? I mean, I could just stay here and-and pick up my Rover at the station in the morning when they let me go."

"I make buttermilk pancakes with real maple syrup and bacon on the side on long weekend mornings," I tell the rather skinny paramedic.

"I hear _we_ serve a fine breakfast at seven a.m. of soggy toast and congealed, scrambled eggs made from dried eggs with a side of lukewarm cheap coffee," Dixie adds, smiling at me with a wink and holding the signed admittance forms up.

John's young features scrunch up in disgust and he timidly asks Ms. McCall if he can get out of his admittance after he's signed himself in.

"You're not committed, Junior, you can sign yourself back out, we'll see about committing you to the mental health unit later if you don't behave yourself, deal?" Roy asks Johnny with a smile.

"Roy? Do you mind if I come to your house? Just until morning and all…"

"I'd like that," my husband tells his partner sincerely.

I drive my battered up charges home. Roy stumps up the steps to take a shower and I fold down the guest bed for Johnny. I read his prescription bottle and hand him a couple of tablets with some water. He smiles at me shyly and I get the feeling it's been a long time since someone's looked after him the way my husband tells me he treats his patients.

I set the alarm clock and settle into a chair beside the bed in the guest room. I point to a pair of Roy's pyjamas that I've brought down and John makes his way to the bathroom to change.

"There's a new toothbrush under the cabinet," I call to him. He takes forever brushing his teeth. I listen to him gargle. He doesn't come out.

"Is everything okay in there?" I boldly ask.

"Um, yeah. Listen, are you gonna be there all night? I mean, in the room with me?"

"That's the idea, yeah. Why?"

"Um, no reason," he says.

The door opens and he limps slowly to the bed. The brave face only does so much to hide the pain as he sits and Roy described the deep bruising on his hip to me so I know how much he must hurt. His jaw muscles tighten and jump as he swings his feet into the bed. Roy's pyjama bottoms are rolled up and the shirt hangs on his chest.

"You don't have to …" John gestures toward the chair.

"I'd feel better. Besides, I don't want to wake Roy with getting up every hour to check on you. He needs to sleep too."

I help him draw the covers up and I swear if he blushes any more I'm gonna have to put a tourniquet on him so the blood doesn't rush to his head. I forget how old Roy told me he was. He looks about the same age as my youngest brother and he's still in college. I can tell he wants to fight sleep but it wins before he can even start.

Roy finishes his shower and clunks as quietly as he can down the stairs. I take another look at the sleeping figure in the guest room and check my watch. Roy looks in fondly on his partner. We slip from the room quietly. I'll be back in forty-five minutes to wake our guest.

Before my eyes can even adjust to the brightness of the kitchen, Roy pulls me into an embrace and kisses me deeply.

"You're the best Annie," he tells me.

"Not so bad yourself," I say. I guide him to a chair and pour him a glass of milk and put a plate of cookies on the table, snagging one for myself.

"Wait a minute. How did you know about Johnny's escape attempt?" Roy asks me between bites of cookie.

"Well, Mike called Cap, Cap told the guys you weren't coming back, told them John had a concussion and was being released and then Chet called me…" I really must thank Chet later.

XXXX

ROY'S POV:

Yep, I'll never figure Chet out. He called my wife. He's some sort of weird phantom.

"Thanks for doing this hon," I tell my wife.

"He'd do that and more for you I have a feeling," she says.

He would. I feel it. I just wish he'd open up. I mean, he knows I'm married, have two kids, want to be an engineer someday and maybe even a captain. Hell, he even knows I hate my mother-in-law. I know he's originally from Montana. Oh, and he's no good at cards. He's great with patients of all ages. women love him. And, I trust him with my life. Other than that, he's a blank slate. I have to hand him some chalk.

Joanne ushers me upstairs. She rolls her eyes when I try to remind her what she has to do when she wakes Johnny up. She may not be a paramedic but she's a mom and that counts enough, more than enough actually. I know my partner will be in good hands and I'm tired.

XXXX

I wake early. It's about ten minutes until John's final neuro check. I pad downstairs and tap Jo lightly on the shoulder.

"I'll take over now. Maybe you can catch an hour before the kids get up," I tell her.

She yawns and glances at her sleeping patient. She kisses me and makes her way upstairs with a cute yawn.

XXXX

JOHN'S POV:

"Urgh! Roy, come on man let me sleep." I drape my arm over my eyes again.

"No can do, partner, time for neuro checks."

Why the hell does he sound so cheerful? It's the middle of the … oh, it's light out. Okeee then, neuro checks it is.

"What do you want for brunch?" he asks me.

"Real men don't eat brunch."

"You pass."

"Gee thanks," I say sitting up. Every move pulls my shoulders taut and the headache is instant. I'm gonna need a hip replacement before I'm twenty-five.

"Let me see your eyes," Roy says, scooping my chin into his hand before I can protest. His other hand reaches up and pulls the shade chord letting the sun hit me squarely in the face.

"Ahhh! Roy!" I pull the blankets up to my eyes.

"I need to see your eyes, Dracula," Roy says calmly, pulling the blanket down again. This time his grip on my chin is more vice-like.

The sun's rays bypass the windowpanes and sunburn my brain. I'd bet good money I don't have that if they scanned my brain right now it'd look like a California raisin.

"Hurt's huh? I'll give you your meds after you eat. Your pupil reactions are nearly normal though."

"Well then they match the rest of me. Can I get up now?"

I sigh deeply when he insists on making me recite all the typical things that go along with trying to find out if I left any of my brain back in that mine collapse.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Your house."

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

"A cave threw a rock at me?"

"Okay, you can get up."

"You don't have to stand that close. I'm fine."

"Okay," he says simply but he doesn't move. I sigh again like I must have a slow leak. I'm a bit wobbly, damn it. He catches my elbow and I straighten up, extricating myself to go take a very much needed shower.

"Bath," Roy corrects my unspoken thoughts. _How does he do that!_ "You don't want to get your stitches wet and you're not steady. I don't want you to fall in the shower."

Roy proceeds to go in the bathroom and start the water. I sigh. Again. He's testing it like baby bath water.

"Can't have it too hot, you'll get dizzy," he points out, which is probably true.

It's gonna take _two_ baths to make me feel human again but if I argue for a shower I'm gonna have company standing outside the door the entire time waiting for the inevitable crash. So not going there.

"Deal."

Roy tosses me a towel and follows my every step down the hall. I close the door and stick my feet into the tub as the water runs, sitting on the edge of the tub. I can't remember the last time I actually took a bath; I'm more of a shower person, goes along with the job I guess. The water feels good on my feet. I close my eyes for a minute and almost fall asleep. The water's mid-calf before I open them again. A bottle of bubble bath sits on the shelf above the tub. It's purple. I open it up, you know, just to take a sniff. Maybe it'll remove mine dust and grime from those hard to reach places. Of course if I did have a date with a nurse, they wouldn't be so hard to reach. I mean my back … gah! _Hm, smells pretty good_. So, I dump some in.

I lay my head back but regret it instantly as the bump comes into contact with the porcelain. There's a bath pillow on a little shelf so I stick it behind my head and lay back again gingerly. The bath smells so good. I think it's lavender. How do I know that? Well, this one time when a guy from tens and I took a couple of girls up to the mountains skiing they had a hot tub. But that's a story for another day … And unfortunately it's not what you think. Gawd, you really need to stop the gutter mind.

The water's nice. I may take up bathing again on my days off. My skin's getting really soft. Bubbles are kind of fun. Don't tell anyone I said that though. Chet would murder me. I think I'll just close my eyes for awhile.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

WHACK!

"Ouch!" The pillow falls and I whack my head on the side of the tub as I sit up too quickly, my butt sliding out from under me. Who knew bubble bath was slippery! And doesn't taste like lavender smells.

"Johnny! Talk to me or I'm busting the door down!" Roy yells.

As soon as I stuff my eyeballs back into my skull from the rude awakening … _I fell asleep? _I attempt to answer him. Calmly, so he doesn't freak out and break down the door.

"I'm okay!" I yell a little louder than I intended, taking stock of my body. Thank God I wasn't dreaming about a date with a nurse! The bump on the side of my head has a twin now and I think I swallowed half the tub. So not telling Roy.

"What happened?"

Roy still has that bust-down-the-damn-door tone.

"Uh, I ah, was just relaxing … then I reached for the soap and tipped a little." I answer as more of a question, which he likely won't buy and I think I just painted a picture of a bad prison film.

"Did you get your stitches wet?"

_Crap! I did!_

"Um, a few drops maybe."

_I'm drenched. Crap!_

"Okay," Roy says calmly like he's talking to a victim. "Get wrapped in the robe that's hanging on the hook on the back of the door and open up."

"Nuh uh. I can take care of this myself. I'll just use Joanne's blow dryer. It'll be okay."

"That's my blow dryer. Jo's is one of the huge dome ones, they're gentler on the hair." Roy tells me.

I don't even wanna know how Roy knows that or why he has a blow dryer of his own.

"You can't blow dry it, it'll crease the stitches because your skin will dry out. And if it is really just a few drops then why don't you open up the door and let me see?"

I slip across the tiles. Pretty sure I used too much of that bubble bath 'cause the soles of my feet have never been this slippery. Bubbles run into my eyes. My hair's soaked. Roy's gonna kill me. I slip into the robe squinting the soap out so I can see to unlock the door. Roy must've been practically leaning on it because he's in my face so fast I have to take a step back to get out of his way. My feet go out from under me and just when I brace for impact Roy grabs the sleeve of the robe and pulls me up.

"Sit." He pushes me down to sit on the edge of the tub again.

"Brackett's gonna kill me," Roy says.

Hey, Roy caught my sighs. He pushes his fingers through his hair.

"We're paramedics, Roy. I think we can dry stitches. Right?" _Please? _I really don't want to go back to Rampart.

Twenty minutes later finds me sitting back-to at the kitchen sink, a towel around my robed shoulders as Roy's wife rinses the bubble bath from my hair. I set my jaw firm every time her fingers go over the new bump so as not to tip her off.

"Roy, John has a new bump on the back of his head that smells like lavender," she tattles as she smiles sweetly at me, towelling off my hair.

"I thought you liked me, Joanne."

"I did … until you used my lavender foaming bath gel. Now, stop sitting like guy while you're wearing my robe and I just may forgive you but don't expect me not to rat you out."

I snap my knees together like Fort Knox and glare at Roy as heat rises in my face.

"What? Look, I didn't have to give you any modesty, I was just gonna bust the door down, at least you're covered. Besides, salmon is your color."

"Done," Joanne announces, turning serious for a minute. "Roy, I think you should recheck his eyes because that new lavender scented bump is big."

"Are you a paramedic now too?" I say feeling very ganged up on.

"Nope. I'm a mom. That trumps your protests any day."

So sitting at the kitchen table I grit my teeth while Roy checks the new bump at the back of my head and rechecks my eyes.

"No change. You're just a bit more dented."

"Gee, thanks."

Jo hands me tablets from Dr. Brackett. I don't really remember him writing the prescription or how I got to bed last night and I don't think I want to know. Roy turns my head up towards the kitchen light and dabs slowly at the stitches. It stings like crazy but I'll never admit it.

"Listen, I know this is gonna sound odd, but your stitches are a little wet on the edges from your little scented dip so I think we should actually blow dry them a little bit on low."

"Okay …"

"With Jo's big dryer."

"Yay!" Roy's daughter bursts into the room. "You're going to love mommy's dryer, Mr. Johnny. Mommy and I play spa and do each other's nails while we sit under it."

"Roy I …"

"Oh come on, you'll love it," Roy's wife laughs, hauling out the massive contraption that looks like something an alien would use to suck my brain out. Wouldn't take much at this point, it's fairly loose from the rocks and the lavender bath gel.

Before I can protest further the pint-sized version of Roy walks into the room in his pyjamas. I've seen him once or twice before when Roy and I have carpooled when his car was in the shop. But those times I was in uniform, cool in my Rover, today I'm sitting in a pink bathrobe under a brain sucker sized hair dryer and I think Jennifer is painting my nails. So not cool.

"Um, dad, is that your partner from work?" Chris asks his dad.

"The one and only," Roy says and I can hear him sip his coffee and I can also hear the smirk he's wearing.

"Okay then," Chris says. "And he's a fireman like you? And a paramedic too?"

"Yep, just like me."

"Dad, why's he dressed like that?"

There's whispering and a small giggle followed by little feet running away. Great, Roy's son probably thinks I'm a cross dresser.

The doorbell rings and a voice in the living room makes me bump my already bumped head on the edge of the brain sucker that's blowing my hair down flat.

It's Chet! Oh no…

"Mister Johnny, you really should stay still. It's hard to paint if your hands are moving all the place," Jennifer tells me. I apologize to my stylist for reasons I can't begin to explain to myself. Her voice is so damned cute and I think I just messed up her hard work.

"Sorry honey. Listen, could you unplug this thing and show me where the button is to get it off my head?" I ask the six year old. I'd ask Joanne or Roy but they've vacated the premises to go talk to Chet … and Cap. Cap's here too! Oh my god, I have to get this thing off me.

"It's so nice to see you Chet, Captain Stanly, won't you come in for some coffee and pancakes?"

_Not to the kitchen, not to the kitchen! _I scream in my head. Chet cannot see me like this. Ever!

Footsteps approach and Jennifer's tiny fingers can't turn the knob, which seems to be stuck conveniently now on a higher speed. I can't reach the knob. The footsteps stop.

"Jo-ohn?" Cap calls out.

I tense. I know Chet's moustache has had two days to grow since I've seen him because I can hear it crunching up into a cheese-eating grin.

"Got it!" Jennifer's little voice shouts triumphantly as the roof of the mega dome lifts from my head.

It must be pretty bad because even the normally serious Captain Hammer is smiling.

"How're ya feeling, pal?" Cap asks.

_Stupid. I feel stupid. _"Um, okay. Better." That's a lie, the little bath adventure has set my teeth on edge with pain again but … my nails look nice, white tipped with pink in the middle. Chet's gonna murder me when I get back to work, but for now, he's that nice, normal uncle type guy. There are children present.

"Oh, Jennifer, you did a great job on Johnny's nails kiddo. All the other fire-_men _are going to love seeing them," Chet tells Jennifer who beams proudly.

"Mister Chet, I think you should come to the salon too. You have some fuzz on your lip. I've seen the ladies at the salon get that waxed off. I think I can do that for you. You'll probably cry though. My mom says men can't take it."

And with that I burst out laughing and so does everyone else.

"Do I get to wear a pink bathrobe like Johnny here?" Chet asks with enthusiasm and a patient smile. I have to hand it to him; he's giving me the gears while complimenting Roy's daughter into a blush.

"No, mommy's only got one, but we have some pink towels if you like," Jennifer offers sweetly.

Chet pinches her little cheek and tells her he'll make an appointment. I have to admit he's great with kids. Well, he has to have _some_ redeeming qualities.

I extricate myself from the kitchen chair carefully. My fingernails are still a bit sticky and I have no idea how I'll get this goo off them without insulting Roy's daughter. Ah damn, I'm gonna have pink nails all day.

My hip reacts favourably to standing up, my head, not so much. I bite my lower lip and as casually as I can, grip the counter for support. Must be the nail polish fumes and warm air from the dryer.

"Uh, I'll be right back. Just going to change, 'kay?" I ask Cap more than anyone else. I salute dumbly and concentrate on making my steps from the room purposeful as I make my way down the hall. First stop is the bathroom. I turn on the faucet and the dizziness overtakes me. I empty the contents of my stomach, which thankfully isn't that much as I haven't eaten yet. I think I got away with it and I feel better as I wash my face and brush my teeth.

I slip into my jeans that Chet brought from my locker and am halfway done buttoning up my shirt when I hear the sounds of a bad horror flick coming up the hall. _Stump … click … stump … click. _I can imagine the lame music accompanying Roy's progress down the hall on his crutches and in ten, nine, eight … wait for it … Knock! Knock!

"Junior, you okay?"

"Yeah, m'fine!" I shout a little too defensively as my fingernail sticks to one of my buttons and leaves a trail of cotton candy sparkles behind.

I take a deep breath and make my way back down the hall behind my partner who I really think is gonna strain his neck if he keeps looking back at me.

I join Cap, Chet, Joanne and the kids at the table and Roy finds a seat at the little breakfast nook by the counter. It's easier on his leg he says.

Joanne puts the food on the table and I want to eat but I don't think my stomach can handle it. I reach for the tea instead of coffee and Chet's eyebrows rise up.

"Concussion bothering your stomach, Johnny?" Chet asks without a hint of sarcasm.

"I'm fine, Chet," I tell him. I think this time he's concerned but again, I'll never know how to take him. I really just need to convince everyone that I'm good, they'll let me go home and I can get out of their hair … dryers.

"I called HQ, John," Chet goes on. "Your new uniforms will arrive at fifty-one on next Tuesday along with the tailoring voucher. I chose a shop close to your apartment."

"How did you … I've been after those guys for two months," I tell Chet before realizing my jaw's dropped open.

"I have connections babe. If you need it, I can get it," Chet tells me confidently as Roy and Cap roll their eyes. Chet is nonchalant as he reaches over and cuts Jennifer's pancake up for her. Joanne smiles and shakes her head.

"Aren't you going to eat, Johnny?" Roy asks me, his eyebrow cocked up.

I look down.

"Um, I'm really sorry Joanne. I know you went to a lot of trouble. I don't think pancakes are gonna sit really well right now."

"That's okay, John."

Joanne goes to fridge and stands up with a bowl of fruit salad. I think I could handle that. God, I feel like such an idiot.

All eyes are on me as I take my maiden bite. That's what it feels like, a ship launching. I'm not used to this kind of concern, not for a long time.

The fruit sits well and I'm not so dizzy when I stand up so we can take our tea or coffee to the living room. I finish my tea and feel somewhat human again. Cap and Chet take their leave wishing Roy and I a speedy recovery.

"Well, I think it's time I head home too," I tell Roy. Turning to Joanne, I thank her for being so kind to me. She doesn't even know me and she sat by my bedside all night. Roy'll probably be really glad to have his house back to normal. He's got to be pretty sore still too. Plus, he has to put up with me at work, having to take me home like some lost puppy must have been a real pain.


	3. Chapter 3

XXXX

ROY'S POV:

John thinks he's going home now. I haven't told him Brackett's swinging by this morning to check on us.

"Stick around for a bit. I'm not that bad to hang out with, am I? I know I'm an old married guy with a limp but I earned it," I tell my single partner.

He looks at me like I've grown a second head.

"I've already troubled you enough. Your poor wife had to stay up all night babysitting me and I'm sure you just want to sit and put your feet up," he tells me.

"I do," I confess, popping the lever on both Lazy-Boy chairs. "Sit for a bit."

I try to get John to tell me something about himself. He talks a mile a minute about everything and nothing but I've still only got Montana, a love of horses, a desire to buy a piece of property big enough for a horse … and voila, something new, he grew up on a reservation. But nothing else.

So, I sit and try to read my young partner a bit. When he says vague things about the reservation I can tell it was a troubled time. He has … or had a strong love of family but what little slips out is all in past tense. I don't know if he even has any family left outside of an aunt who called the station once when he first started. He's such a mystery yet when we work together it's like an extension of myself, he knows exactly what we need to do and we just do it. I just hope one day I'll get to know him better. Truth is I wouldn't have slept if he'd gone home or stayed at Rampart for some reason. I mean, yes, Rampart is very good and they would have taken care of him … I just think he deserves more.

As we continue talking and I tell John a bit about my mother-in-law and he tells me a bit about his dates with some of the nurses at Rampart, the time between his blinks grows longer. His chin touches his chest a few times before his head bobs up and he grins sheepishly. He yawns a few times fighting the sleep I know is going to overtake him. When I think he's relaxed enough I break the news that Brackett's coming.

"What? Are you crazy, Roy? I mean, Brackett was nice to me last night because a cave threw a rock at me but now that I'm not trying to put a square peg into a round hole anymore he's gonna show just how mad he is about that rescue. He's an angry person, Roy. Mad. Always mad, he looks … yeah, mad," John says with some finality but I can tell he's still really under the weather because he hasn't made a move to leap from the chair and bolt.

"He's not mad, Junior, just give him a chance."

"He is too … a mad doctor," John yawns and falls asleep.

God he looks all of eighteen when he sleeps … Fiercely independent too, yet he can sit there with his fingernails painted pink, his arm draped lightly over his eyes just like back at the station and not care if anyone sees as long as it made my daughter happy. He's right though, Chet's gonna be murder when we get back to work.

Jo smiles at the sleeping figure in the Lazy Boy. I can tell what she's thinking before she says it.

"You let _him_ run into burning buildings?" she asks me, still smiling but shaking her head. "He's so young."

"He's one of the best though," I tell my wife proudly. She stops Dr. Brackett from ringing the doorbell when he arrives by opening the door first.

"Dr. Brackett," Joanne says stiffly with none of the warmth she showed Cap and Chet or offers of coffee and pancakes.

"Mrs Desoto, it's nice to see you again," Brackett says.

I swear my wife growled as loud as Stoker when Brackett stepped toward Johnny. _You tell him dear. _

"Do you have time for coffee, Dr. Brackett? John just fell asleep," my wife asks. So, she is going to offer him coffee … just not for his benefit.

"I'd love some coffee," Brackett says and when he steps into the light of the kitchen the dark circles under his eyes become apparent. Maybe he does care more than we thought. Maybe we'll have to go a little easier on doc from now on. It only dawns on me now that he and Dix must have been working very hard on the mine victims too. I think there are bridges to un-burn here. Hey, I'm a fireman; I can make up new words if I need to.

Brackett checks out my ankle in the kitchen. There's no new swelling and I can lose the crutches in a few days.

"How's John?" he asks.

"I think he's still suffering nausea from the concussion, not that he'd tell me or anything," I say with a good amount of annoyance.

"I can imagine," Doc says and there's sympathy in his tone.

"I just don't know why he didn't tell me he was hurt."

"Well, did you notice that when he came in he was reluctant to even let me examine him?" Brackett asks as if he can't for the life of him figure out why that might be.

_Hm, could it be because you really do come across as a mad doctor? Len! Len Frankenstone, how could you call him an amateur! _… Is what I want to say but I refrain.

"I did. He's a very private person. I need a crowbar to crack in and find out what makes him tick." I sigh in frustration. My partner has this wall up for some reason. I think most guys could get away with that just fine, it might even be better for working conditions but there's something about John that just makes me care.

"You'll coax it out of him eventually," Brackett tells me. "He's a real firecracker. Real independent but at the same time, I have a feeling you're gonna have to watch out for him. Yours is a dangerous job to go home from injured. And if he's as alone as his records indicate it might be a good idea to talk to your captain about setting up some sort of check system. It might even benefit others, you know, a system whereby if one of the guys is overtired or slightly injured, one of the other guys can drive him home or set up at least a phone check list."

Feet shuffle our way.

"That's a nice idea, Doc, but I've been lookin' after myself since I was sixt… um, what I mean is, I can look out for myself thanks. But there might be someone else who could benefit from something like that."

Brackett folds his arms and I know a standoff is coming. I want to duck and run but this is something my partner needs to hear.

"Do you think needing someone is a sign of weakness, Gage?"

"No … it's okay for some people. It's why I became a paramedic, because some people need someone to look after 'em and I'm good at that."

And there it is, the confidence and the cockiness.

"But you're not one of 'em? Ever?" Brackett asks.

"Well, who do you go home to, Doc? I don't see a wedding ring."

And there's the deflection. It's like a damned tennis match. For a minute Brackett looks like he's forgetting his hands are for healing but instead of leaving when John challenged him at Dix's party he schools his features and crosses his arms over his chest looking squarely at John.

"I'm single, but when I'm sick …"

Did Doc just blush and look down?

"Go on doc," I push. My partner needs to hear this.

"I call Dixie. She comes to my place or I go there…"

"Everybody needs somebody sometime …" my partner sings in a perfect imitation of Dean Martin, a cocky smirk on his face. Then he pauses and his face sobers. "But not me, okay? Listen Roy, thanks for everything. I'll see you back at the station. Tell Joanne thanks … and tell Jennifer, um, I feel pretty?" He shrugs heading for the door.

"I haven't cleared you for duty," Brackett growls at my partner which stops him in his tracks.

"I'm going home, not to work," Gage says evenly.

"You'll need medical clearance to go back to work, you've been signed off officially."

"Roy?" John turns to me and I'm caught between a rock and a doc.

"He's right, Junior. You can do it here or at Rampart but I gotta tell ya, the doc's one of the best and if you go to Rampart there's a new intern called Dr. Morton who'd probably love to get his hands on a young fireman like you to study lungs and other bodily functions and can find an excuse to do it."

I know I've just told a really bad campfire story to an experienced firefighter but Morton _is_ really just out of med school and really over eager.

"What? Morton? Are you serious? Well … Oh for heaven's sake, alright then," Gage surrenders dramatically and Dr. Brackett smiles a bit in triumph and a bit at my partner's antics. I think the friction between these two will take awhile to go away but they'll get there.

Gage glares as Brackett makes him lie down on the sofa. Doc grins at the nail polish on the white buttons.

"I don't paint my nails …" my partner tells the doc defensively as he reaches to take a pulse.

"M' hm." Brackett says, grinning. I can actually watch my partner's pulse point beat just a little faster.

"Roy's daughter did it and I didn't want to insult her by taking it off before I got home."

"M'hm," Brackett answers and I think he's getting my partner back … for getting him back … oh hell I've lost track.

And this is how I'm going to get to know my partner. Through my kids and Joanne and the guys at the station and just maybe Doc will help a bit. He won't volunteer anything, of that I'm sure but little by little it'll slip.

"About going home," Brackett says, shining his light into John's eyes. "It would probably be best if you stayed here one more night. No neuro checks but I don't want you driving just yet."

"But doc I've already imposed on Roy and his family long enough and I really don't wanna stay in the hospital …"

"Mister Johnny?" Jennifer says, running up to Dr. Brackett with her little nurse's kit in tow. "Dr. Brackett says I can take care of you today. He says I'm a good nurse. He gave me this kit when I had my tonsils out."

John pulls his shirt tightly around his bare chest. I give him my best stern look that he better not disappoint my little girl.

"I'll sweeten the pot, Gage. I'll give you a shot of anti nausea meds before I leave. They'll make you drowsy but you could use the sleep anyway," Brackett says.

"I'm not nauseas," Gage whines pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're nauseas. I've seen you eat eight pancakes with bacon and sausage and a glass of milk, and anyone who can resist Jo's pancakes is still sick," I rat to Dr. Brackett.

John opens his mouth to argue but just the mention of bacon and sausages has tinged his skin a bit green.

"It's the Fourth of July," Jennifer tells Johnny as Dr. Brackett hands her the thermometer. We have firecrackers for our backyard. It would probably be a good idea to have two firemen for when we set 'em off, right?"

"M'hm b-mmm, M'not defourth of July…" Johnny mumbles around the thermometer under his tongue as Jennifer watches the hands on Dr. Brackett's very nice watch.

"You're not normal," Jennifer tells John with a small sympathetic shake of her head.

"She's right, Gage. Just over a hundred," Brackett says, swallowing his laughter at my daughter's rather timely assessment.

"Did I miss something?" Gage asks me seriously, plucking the thermometer from Brackett's hand. It's only a hundred … and it's not the fourth."

"No, you're right," I chuckle. "Don't worry, you're not brain damaged, at least I don't think … It's not the fourth of July but we missed the fourth of July celebrations before you joined fifty-one because we had a huge overtime on a stubborn warehouse fire. I got permits to light off some firecrackers tonight. The guys from the station are coming over with their families and some of the neighbours are coming out. It'd be nice if you could stay."

"So how 'bout it, Gage," Brackett asks. That's odd for Doc, he never asks, he tells but I have a feeling he's trying something new with our young friend here.

"I really do feel awful," John confesses. He glances at me sideways and I smile reassuringly at him, trying to convey how welcome he is here. I know it cost him a lot to admit that he wasn't really ready to leave.

Doc and I do a mental high five, feeling victorious. He pushes John's sleeve up and Jennifer scoots up to sit beside his head.

"Just count to ten and squint your eyes up real tight, like this," my daughter demonstrates in her best imitation of when she and Chris get their booster shots. John hates needles. He glared me into the next week during training when I demonstrated an intramuscular shot on his arm. He's no wimp, he's been through plenty if the scars on his body I've gotten the odd look at in the locker room are any indication but he never talks about them. I'll ask one day. But for now I'll just be grateful at his change in posture as the medicine doc just gave him takes affect.

"He must have been exhausted. I gave him something to bring the fever down too, probably swallowed some water in the mine" Doc says. Gage is out. Jennifer brings a blanket and damned if doc doesn't help her cover his patient up with a gentle pat on his shoulder.

"See if you can get him to stay the remainder of today and tonight. He should be fine by tomorrow morning and if not, bring him by Rampart, I promise not to let Morton dissect him," Doc tells me. He packs up his bag and tells Jennifer to watch out for our new friend.

"Thanks, Dr. Brackett," I say, standing to shake his hand. I'm glad to have him on our side even though I'm pretty sure that when I look out to the driveway I'm gonna see his feet sticking out through the floor of a very expensive wooden car as he drives away.

XXXX

JOHN'S POV:

"He is too always angry … a mad doctor," I tell Roy.

_Roy's house looks different. Real … but … different. I'll just lie here for awhile longer. Head hurts. It's cold in here, never noticed the stone walls before … The TV's on and that cartoon jingle is playing. I think it's the one where there's a huge rack of barbecued ribs on top of a car. I could go for some ribs…_

"He got hit in the head with a bowling ball, doc," Roy tells someone.

_But that's not right. It was a rock, in a mine. I reach up and touch my tender temple. I haven't bowled in years…_

"_Len! Len Frankestone, you have to make this right. He can't go through life like that." _

"_Now you listen to Dr. Sigrock Freep," someone else says. Sounds a bit like Joanne but … not. _

"_Listen to her Len Frankenstone. You didn't come through med school to experiment on people."_

"_But Siggy, I can make this one more mature. Make them a matching set," Len Frankenstone says._

_I peek around the corner, ready to make my escape. Those hideous sideburns! I should have known all along. Brackett is Len Frankenstone! He stands at the kitchen table fiddling with Joanne's hairdryer … Oh my God, it's not a hairdryer; it's a personality switcher! They've done something to me! I look down at my hands. Pink nails! I run to the bathroom to wash it off but it won't come off. I scrub and scrub and still it's there. I button my shirt. There's pink on it. Out damn spot!_

_Dr. Early a.k.a. Dr. Sigrock Freep tries to talk some sense into Kel as I've heard Dix call him … um, Len. But they're both insisting I was hit by a bowling ball. And why is Joanne wearing a bone in her hair and yelling at Frankenstone?_

"_I'm doing this for his own good. We have to extract some information from him. And his hair … did you see his hair? It's too long and he needs some sideburns like me."_

_Nooooo! I wonder if the Cap is in on this. He's always telling me to get my hair cut._

_I look in the mirror. Sideburns grow like two moustaches trailing down my temples right through the gauze as if nothing dare stop them. I grab a razor and shave them off but they grow right back._

"_But I like my partner the way he is, even if he's a lousy card player and bowler," Roy tells Frankenstone … Brackett._

"_But you could have the new Gage two-point-oh! Not the amateur you're stuck with now," Frankenstone protests. _

"_He's fine the way he is. I'll teach him not to get hit with bowling balls and he'll loosen up one of these days. I'm willing to wait," Roy says stoutly. _

"_You see Len?" Sigrock … er, Dr. Early tells Brackett._

"_What would you know Sigrock? You were my intern, not the other way around." In a lower voice he tells someone else. "You should have seen him when he first met me, had dark hair. I had to change that in a hurry. He's actually ten years younger than me but I like the nurses oohing and ahhhing over me."_

"_I heard that, Len … Kel."_

XXXX

ROY'S POV:

Dr. Brackett sure leaves an impression, white coat shushing behind him like a cloak. I honestly think he scares Gage a bit. I know I don't have to do neuro checks on the kid anymore but my leg's stiff and I don't feel like going upstairs anyway. So I watch the Flintstones with Jennifer and Chris as he sleeps on the couch right where doc left him.

"He is a mad doctor, Roy! NO! No sideburns please! No more brain suckers! Gah!"

I leap up as fast as I can and sit beside my partner on the couch.

"Easy Johnny, you're dreaming," I say lamely, gently shaking his shoulder. I mean, it doesn't sound like a nightmare but he's pretty darn upset like he's in a movie called attack of the killer sideburns or something. His pulse is a little rapid under my fingers but nothing to worry about yet.

"Barny! Help me! He's gonna give me sideburns, wants me to be like him!"

"Shhh, it's okay, Junior, wake up for me now," I soothe. A hand to his brow tells the story. He still has a mild fever. His eyes flutter open and turn toward the T.V. Fred's just been turned into Dino and back again and Dr. Freep is yelling at Dr. Frankenstone.

"_Oh _… Um. You see…"

"I do …" I gasp suddenly. "They're identical! Dr. Frankenstone and Dr. Brackett."

Gage gives a little embarrassed smile and sits up, still a little wobbly.

"It's the sideburns…"

"Yeah," I agree but we both know it's more and leave it at that. I wonder what he put John through in his dreams but by the way he was touching his temples when he woke up I can pretty well bet. I hand my friend some medicine and water and Jennifer goes to get him a cold cloth.

I tuck a cold cloth behind John's neck and one on his forehead while he protests that I don't need to. We talk a bit more about his dream.

"So I guess that makes me Barney?"

"Y- yeah, but Wilma … er, Joanne was your wife still. Honest!"

"Easy Junior," I laugh. "Get some more sleep and maybe you'll feel up to watching fireworks tonight."

XXXX

JOHNNY'S POV:

I'm feeling a lot better. Fever's down some but Roy keeps shooting those glances at me. He makes whiskery finger movements on either side of his head from across the lawn that makes me laugh. Remember how when you're nervous around people you're supposed to picture them in their underwear? Well, Roy told me when Brackett's around for the next little while at least, to picture Len Frankenstone and I'll be more relaxed. I really don't think the doc's gonna be so … _mad_ anymore but I need some time to get used to him. And I hope I never have to be examined by that Morton guy.

XXXX

Stoker and Marco light the firecrackers. Roy's foot is propped up on a lounge and Jo and Cap's wife are going around with trays of goodies. The bright bursts hurt my head but they blur into a beautiful watery pattern in my eyes against the backdrop of a full moon as I stand under a tree slightly away from the crowd.

I startle when Chet comes up behind me. He drapes a cardigan around my shoulders.

"You okay?" he asks me for the second time today.

"Yeah … I think so."

"Roy's a great guy. He was really worried about you."

"Worried? About me? Why?"

Chet just shakes his shaggy head. "You have no idea what we had to endure waiting for your official transfer to fifty-one. John Gage this, John Gage that, top of his class in training … cheesh man, I didn't know whether to salute you or water bomb you when you first arrived. Of course you know which I opted for," he smiles at me.

"He said that? About me? You're putting me on."

But Chet looks serious.

"Yep, you're two peas … well, not in a pod, very different pods actually, yours being from Uranus and all, but yeah, it was meant to be babe."

I'm floored. I remember the day I met Roy. To me, he already looked like a captain sitting behind that desk, so ready to fight for the program that I now love. Someday he will be a great captain. I just hope we can work together for a long time before that happens. Huh, with what I've just learned I kinda feel bad about stealing his green pen after I signed those papers that brought me to him. But it's my lucky pen now.

Chet disappears when Roy limps over to me under the tree.

"Happy _Independence Day _Junior," he says warmly.

And I think Independence Day will always mean something different to me from now on. Sometimes independence is admitting that you need someone. Hm, I was right on that day of training, Roy does need me. And I need him.

Joanne scolds us both into lounges and Jennifer brings us some iced tea.

"Uncle Johnny, look at that one!" she says of the bright blue stars that burst in the sky but I'm too busy looking at the little star that sits on my knee that made me a part of a family for the first time in … too long.

Happy _Independence_ Day.


End file.
